OK… so my readers out there, you’ve likely gathered that when I’m not biking I spend too much time reading, writing and cooking.

I’m not a craftsy type of person, and I have absolutely no musical talent at all. Well, I can sing, but not if you ask me to do it in the same tempo that you are doing it. I don’t like needle-work (though, yes, I can do it). I am not much for gardening and really like that our new house on a large corner lot manages to have very little in way of garden requirements. By the time I’m done with it, there will be even fewer garden requirements. We’re working this summer on getting rid of the grass and putting in a combination of ground covers instead.

There is one thing I like to do — aside from biking — that feels like it transports me out of myself and into that place that gets described as ‘the zone’. For me ‘the zone’ requires just enough challenge to keep me on my toes, and enough reward to make me feel satisfied with my progress. The combination can provide a deep feeling of pleasure. Today I had some pretty dense theory to slog through for a writing project, so I took a break by taking up my new water colour pencils (love them!) and began my first draft-study of my grandmother’s hands.

Here is the result of sketching today.

Gramma's hands

I really liked working on the sketch. The process felt a little like a conversation between me and Gramma, and I was comforted to find myself submerged in tactile memories of her skin, sensory memories of the sound of her voice, of the smell of her perfume…